


Familiar

by xyChaoticFox



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Distrust, Elf x Geralt, Implied Romance, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, Past Lovers, Reunions, Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:54:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22307521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xyChaoticFox/pseuds/xyChaoticFox
Summary: "Besides," The elf starts, a grin ghosting across his lips, "I happen to know this one well.""Too well." Geralt muttered, tugging against his restraints.(Adapted from the scene in episode 2 of the series~)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Filavandrel, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Filavandrel aén Fidhál
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	Familiar

**Author's Note:**

> I really love elves and I just wanted this. I don't even know if other people ship this. :/
> 
> Notes: 
> 
> This timeline, setting, relationship ect is not factual and I just made it up to go with my fantasy xD
> 
> As always my native language is not English and this is not beta'd so please excuse any major errors and enjoy ♥️

_x_

Geralt decided that that day, was not his day. The weather had been foul and windy the entire morning, sending every leaf and branch crashing into his face with no remorse. When he finally got to a cave to wait out the little storm, a gravehag eagerly wanted his company and he left the cave drenched in rotting blood and guts. His trip through the swamp followed the same path, leaving his boots filled with mud and his clothes soaked in moss water.

Finally he reached the halfway mark between the village and the mountains, near the edge of the farming fields and ill looking fruit trees. The land was dry and the harvest bound to be less than normal, but the witcher would atleast make sure before he returned to his contractor with news. A horned-devil they called it- the creature that was stealing from their harvests more frequently. There weren't many creatures he could think of that fit the description. 

The sun was setting and his search seemed futile as he rounded another large boulder with no signs of anything besides field mice and lizards. He paused suddenly, turning his head as he heard a soft click and then something zooming through the air. He didn't have time to dodge and the shot hit him right in the forehead. He cursed, touching the open wound as the little steel ball fell onto the ground. Odd ammo to use that. Geralt pushed the tall grass away, eyes strained on a distant figure. It was hidden by more dried grass but its silhouette fit the description perfectly. 

"Leave me be!" It yelled suddenly and bolted through the bushed. 

It charged at him, hitting him square in the chest and sending him flying backwards and into the sand floor. He barely stayed down, flinging himself onto his feet and catching up to the creature again.

"You talk." Geralt announced, teeth bared. He didn't like being thrown about. 

It let out another war cry before charging at him; this time however, the witcher was ready. He caught him, throwing him to the side and the creature rolled onto the ground. 

"Of course I talk!" 

Geralt jumped onto it, pushing his forearm against its throat to keep it against the ground. 

His lips curled up in a nasty grin, "What happened with you? Your mother fuck a goat?"

"I'm Torque! The sylvan; a rare and intelligent creature!" It spat angrily. 

Geralt raised a first, "You're a dick, with balls!" He added as an afterthought. Insults weren't his strong suite now that you mention it. 

"Balls I got from the humans who left out food filled with iron to poison me!" He grabbed at Geralt's head, ripping a strip of ashen hair out. 

Geralt grimaced, blinking through the pain as the Sylvan held up the piece of hair. 

"Did your mother fuck a snowman?" It laughed at him. 

His fist fell on the Sylvan's nose, a loud crack cutting through the air. 

"You are intelligent. I'll give you that, so I won't kill you" Geralt said and then shook his head, "But you can't stay here."

He loosened his grip, pulling away from Torque. 

The Sylvan lift his head, "Neither can you." 

Geralt spun around just as a rock collided into his head and the world went black. 

*

  
When he wakes, there's a blade at his throat and an angry she-elf spewing furious insults at him. He keeps telling her he isn't there to harm anyone and she keeps telling him how he's human until he's ready to snap. She launches at him when he tells her she's acting like the humans she despises, flicking a blade in his direction and ready to slice his throat open when a voice booms throughout the cave room. 

" _Wait_."

Geralt slams his head into hers, sending her flying back against the solid ground with a pained yelp. She scrambled up as she wiped blood from her nose and screamed, launching herself at him again. 

"I said stop!" 

"But he's helping those filthy humans!" She objects immediately before she looks up and her face falls. 

The she-elf steps away, looking at the floor as another descended down the stairs carved from rock. Geralt spits out blood before turning to look at the newcomer. He regrets it the moment his eyes lays upon the familiar golden haired figure. The elf doesn't look surprised, face stoic and set with a cold elegance only the elder elves possessed. 

"Fuck." Geralt cursed. 

"My lord- he was-"

"We don't just kill." The elf says, stepping in front of the she-elf. 

"Besides," He starts, a grin ghosting across his lips, "I happen to know this one well."

"Too well." Geralt muttered, tugging against his restraints. 

The elf looked amused, pulling a sword from the sheath strapped to his hip. He lift it up, sliding the tip of the blade underneath Geralt's chin. He tilted the sword upwards, prompting the witcher to lift his head and look up at the elf. 

"You still have a smart mouth I see." 

"Some things we just can't grow out of, now can we?" 

A blonde brow raised slightly, "Is there something you wish to say?" 

Geralt scoffed bitterly, "Oh, I can think of a lot of things to say, Filavandrel." 

The she-elf protested at the casual use of name but Filavandrel held up his free hand to stop her. 

"It's alright, the witcher and I are familiar enough to drop these titles. Besides, they are pretty much meaningless now." 

"Meaningless?" 

"I'm sure you know why, elves losing their kingdoms and all that." Filavandrel didn't smile anymore as he lowered the sword.

Geralt refrained from making another remark as the elf circled him. The bindings snapped, falling from his wrists as the elf appeared on his other side, sheathing his sword. He looked down at Geralt from over his shoulder, grey eyes cold and almost lifeless as they glanced at him. Filavandrel turned away, motioning towards the others to stay put as he made his way back up the stairs. 

"Come, witcher. We have much to discuss." 

*

Geralt followed him out into the open, sunlight almost blinding them as he emerged from the ground chamber. They were between cliffs of rocky mountain, several rock chambers carved out around them and stone paths curving their way along each. Silently he followed Filavandrel to a set of caves, ignoring the looks many elves shot at him. Some were hopeful while most were resentful and filled with pure disgust. 

Two elf guards stood in front of a larger entrance inside the cave and Filavandrel told them to leave, pushing the tattered curtains covering the doorway open. He beckoned the witcher closer, telling him to go in. So this was the elf's chambers. Geralt stood near the entrance, curtains behind him as Filavandrel entered through them and yanked them shut again- not that it really mattered. 

"It's not much but I'm sure you slept in worse." He said. 

Geralt grunted in agreement, eyeing the room; it would have been extremely dark were it not for the holes knocked out to let in bright rays of sunlight. It was a large open space, a bed pushed into the far corner instead of the center. Along one wall stood a row of wooden shelves made from the same trees that stood just below the mountain. It was stacked with scrolls, torn books and multiple flasks. His eyes stopped on a wooden table with two chairs, Filavandrel standing at the back of one. 

"Sit." He said.

Geralt made his way to the table, pulling a chair out and spinning it around to sit across the seat with his arms on the back of it. Filavandrel had a look of disapproval on his face but he didn't comment on it, simply sitting down himself and pushing a glass, of what Geralt presumed was water, in Geralt's direction. 

"I must confess, I don't know what to do with you. I cannot just let you go and let Posada know we were stealing." 

Geralt took a sip of the clear liquid confirming it was indeed water. Atleast the elf didn't try to poison him. 

"The humans will attack and many will die. On both sides." He gritted out the last part. 

"It's the lesser evil. No matter what you choose," Geralt pushed the glass away, "You'll come out bloody and hating yourself. Trust me." 

Filavandrel linked his fingers and leaned onto his forearms, "That's the problem. I can't." 

"Then you want to kill me. So go ahead." 

Filavandrel let out a bitter laugh, rolling his eyes and turning his head to the side. 

Geralt kept his eyes on the elf. His hair was shorter than the last time they crossed paths, chopped off just above the shoulder but still curled in spirals across his head. Most of the golden curls were roughly plaited away from his face, or pushed behind a sharp ear safe for the few that fell back into his face as he moved. His skin was still fair as ever, more tanned and slightly bruised at the jaw but smooth and beautiful. 

"Why are you staring at me, witcher?" 

"I was looking." 

"You didn't hear what I said." Filavandrel retorted. 

Geralt clenched his jaw, the elf looking at him again with those grey eyes. He remembered them to be more blue but right now they looked like ash. 

"You look different." Geralt said. 

"We haven't seen each other in over two hundred years, Geralt." 

"I wasn't counting." 

"Unfortunately I was." 

Filavandrel stood quietly, moving around the table and pulling the blue robes he wore closer to his body. 

"Perhaps you should go." 

"I won't let the humans start another war here and if it comes to that, you can ask for help." 

"And who will I ask?" 

"Me." 

Filavandrel stopped his pacing to look at Geralt, gaze falling on those golden orbs he longed to see many nights. 

"No." 

"No?" Geralt didn't hide his surprise. 

"Our bridges were burned a long time ago and we should keep it that way." 

"Filavandrel-" 

The elf held up a hand, standing in front of the witcher with another cold mask on his fair face. He let his palm fall onto Geralt's chest, slender fingers splayed open across the leather armour. He was looking at the medallion that touched the tip of his middle finger, blonde lashes brushing his cheekbones when he blinked. The elf sighed quietly, pulling his hand away. 

"You should go." 

The witcher's arm shot forward, fingers locking around Filavandrel's wrist. The stormy eyes flared up at him and the elf's wide mouth pulled into a tight frown as he pulled at the wrist. Geralt wanted to get out right now but there was a small part of him that didn't want to let go. The skin beneath his fingers felt unbearably familiar and looking down at the golden elf pushed all the images he forgot to the front of his thoughts. 

"Geralt."

He remembered the elf tangled in a white sheet, back arched and hands fisted into the bed, calling his name over and over again. He saw the honey and sunshine coloured hair falling in springy curls over the elf's naked shoulders and chest when they stayed in bed. He remembered what it felt like brushing against him, smelling fresh, like a rainy day in the forests. Geralt remembered the way Filavandrel of the Silver Towers blushed, flushing red across his body and face all the way up to his ears when Geralt fucked him. His fingers ached with the memories. 

"You don't get red like you used to." Geralt finally said. 

"Things change." Filavandrel said.

Geralt's tongue swiped across his lips as he reached a free hand out and pushed some curls behind the elf's sharp ear. His fingers brushed the reddening tip and the elf tensed.

"Not everything." 

Geralt went against his better judgement and leaned down to press a kiss to Filavandrel's pale lips. 

They tasted just as Geralt hoped they wouldn't.

_The same._

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to shout at me below ~
> 
> Suggestions and requests are welcome ♥️


End file.
